


our friend, Castiel

by orvaignwrites



Series: we, too, were young once [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Gen, Heaven, Pre-Series, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orvaignwrites/pseuds/orvaignwrites
Summary: read ontumblr!





	our friend, Castiel

It was a rare day when Castiel would engage in play.

We used to try and force him out of his books to play with us, out of the libraries so he could feel Heaven’s wind in his wings. He was always studious, exhaustively so – sometimes I would leave him for amounts of time that spanned human years, only to come back and find him in the exact same position, engrossed in a book, oblivious to everything going on around him. He made the other young angels feel inadequate, but not for long – the libraries of Heaven, however beautiful, could not hold the same fascination as flying.

Sometimes we managed to drag him out, though. Balthazar was often the most successful; something about the way he could manipulate his expressions and affectionately tease Castiel was often the only thing to get him to put the books down and come out with us. Anna would try, sometimes, but she was often too aggressive for poor, quiet Castiel, who would remain bemused in the wake of Anna’s frequent, blatant display of her wings whenever she was around him. It was sweet, in a way – everyone knew Anna was to grow to be the leader of the garrison we were all to join, and yet she still pursued Castiel, destined to be a foot soldier. Balthazar and I would exchange fond glances as we coaxed Castiel out of the doors, onto the fields.

It would always take a long time of making a show of how much fun we were having before Castiel would join us; Balthazar and I tumbling through the air in elaborate play-fights while Anna darted around above us, flipping and curling around herself and sending her body hurtling towards the ground in freefall before pulling up at the last second, her wings reflecting light until she looked magnificent, every inch the leader she was to become. Castiel would sit, and watch, and laugh for a long, long time until our cajoling would become too much and he would stand, brushing himself off and launching himself into the air.

Castiel was always ashamed of his wings, ever since he was created. He knew, of course, that they were perfect – they were God’s creation – but he was self-conscious, tucking them close to his body at all times, avoiding joint grooming sessions like the plague – which everyone agreed was a shame, because it meant he was never truly _close_ to our siblings, never truly had that strong sense of companionship and family the rest of us did. I had always thought his wings were beautiful – dark, deep blue, the edges a dusty black, like he’d been burnt. Of course, we know now that those singed-looking edges were a prophecy of sorts, chronicling the tortuously slow war through Hell.

Castiel, of course, after so long spent hunched over books and walking slowly through libraries, was not the most elegant flyer. His style was all about force, beating the air to propel himself along, giving him a strong, constant speed befitting of an angel who would one day become a soldier – it fit him, because Castiel was nothing but constant, predictable, until he grew up and fell down.

Uriel sometimes came to watch, but he was older than us, and would stand at the sidelines, teasing. Anna would ignore him and Balthazar would laugh, but it used to get to Castiel, send him blushing to his wingtips and his body curling in on itself, landing with an abrupt _thump_ and excusing himself. Balthazar would be the one to comfort him, every time – he would spend hours in the library with Castiel, until he came out with a stormy expression to give Uriel a piece of his mind. Uriel never listened, though.

By and large, I had a good youth, spent playing with my friends and training to become a soldier. I enjoyed my first few millennia in Heaven’s army – I’ve fought alongside Castiel, Balthazar, Anna and Uriel in many a war; I’ve patched all of them up at least once. I was there for Anna’s fall. I fought under Castiel in Hell – I could’ve been the one to pull Dean Winchester kicking and bleeding and screaming out of the Pit, but I’d stayed back to keep watch as Castiel broke through defences to find him. I heard of Uriel’s death, then Balthazar’s – I had mourned them all.

And now I hear of Castiel; poor, studious Castiel, ashamed of his wings but beautiful in flight, reduced to a broken state after helping the Winchesters. Hester, loathe as I am to admit it, was right – Castiel was lost the first time he made contact with Dean Winchester, when he left his mark on his shoulder.

I mourn him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> read on [tumblr](http://orvaign-writes.tumblr.com/post/22788472495/thank-you-it-was-a-rare-day-when-castiel-would)!


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